HawkLeBeau, a birthday fic for you!! I actually had not intended to go smutty here, but 1), Rogue is a dirty hoe-bag with her nasty-rat husband and can't control herself, and 2), hi, you know me. Anyway, all the love to you, my dear friend:)
——•oOo•——
I slowly stretch awake to a cool breeze, the soft touch of early morning sun, and luxuriant bedding, and then shiver right back under the covers and into the delicious warmth of the man laid out on his belly beside me. It ain't terribly cold or anything, but when you're buck-ass naked, half out of the covers, and literally waking up in a sunrise on a misty island heaven, it can feel downright chilly!
It's alright though. Remy's practically a ragin' hellfire furnace, and he's a snuggler, to boot. True to form, I wiggle my side into his, and he smacks his lips, mumbles something completely unintelligible, and reaches out to snatch me down under his arm.
"Mornin' to you, too, Cajun," I lean in and giggle quietly into his cheek, droppin' barely-there kisses in between every word. "Didn't even open your eyes then, didja?"
He doesn't stir at my whispered teasing, eyelids not even twitching, heavy, black lashes restin' still on his cheeks.
It's unfair, disgusting, really, just how pretty his lashes are. He wouldn't have made a pretty girl, not at all with those sharp features, but his eyes would've almost made up for it, and it ain't fair. Especially to us gals who gotta use Maybelline to fake havin' lashes at all!
Not that I'm really complainin' about no lashes, I ain't lackin'. It's just that I'm a redhead, and redheads don't have lashes til you put some color on 'em, you know?
I smile at him, and gently bump my nose against his. "It's alright shug," I whisper, "you keep those pretty eyes closed, and keep right on sleepin'. Me, I'll just check out this view a while, hm?"
I ease up on my elbows, careful not to awaken him, and stare out over the paradise before me. And a paradise, it is! An open, bamboo-built villa, situated on a gorgeous island in Bali. The place easily sleeps eight people, but Remy booked the whole joint so we could have this entire end of the island all to ourselves. And right now, snuggled up in fluffy bedding on a huge hammock hung out past the master bedroom balcony, I can feel that utter seclusion in a seemingly endless view of misty jungle and serene beach spread out before me.
Some might say it's a roughin' it trip, staying off the grid like this, with nothin' to really keep the bugs out and where it rains everyday, and they might say it's real boring with nothin' to do. They might say it's a drag to travel some ways to buy food just to cook our own meals, or travel even further to try a local restaurant. They might also laugh themselves silly at the notion of me and Remy soaking up having nothing else and no one else around to occupy time away from us.
And I'd say they were dead-ass wrong on all accounts. It's the best thing me and Remy have had in a long time. Probably ever. Nothing at all between us, nowhere to go for distractions. Everything slowed down to sort out things done too fast. Just us. Just days on no schedule, no life-or-death catastrophe. Just beaches, sun, rain, culture when we venture out, talks about anything and everything, and sex.
Oh my god, lots of that. My lord, I'm no stranger to Remy's appetite, we'd experimented in the early days, and then I'd absorbed him and everything in his pretty head a time or two, then there was California, Paraiso, and after… And he's always been an incredible lover. Attentive, intuitive, high drive, and ever willing to please. But nothin' in the world coulda prepared me for this. Being so open, and knowin' it's for keeps…
I remember people tellin' me back in the day he was trouble, that he was a rollin' stone, a cheater, a womanizer, a heartbreaker. And yeah, he was all of those things, lord knows, Remy ain't no saint. But one thing they always said about him, that he ain't the marryin' kind, just isn't true. He never gave a damn if it came as marriage or not, that boy's been lookin' forever for a family to squeeze himself into, to belong to. Now, he ain't easy to fit in anywhere, he's his own brand of dramatic, he has his own issues, and it takes gettin' him, lovin' him, bad parts with the good, and lettin' him love you back to give it to him. But you do all that? You pass? Hoooo, you done got yourself a loyal Remy for life.
That first part, lovin' him, understanding him, I ain't ever had a hard time doing that, not really. I've loved that man always, and we've click-clacked jam-tight from day one. The second part, now, that took me clear into the rough first few weeks of our marriage. Wasn't til we touched down here, and let the absolute peace and quiet set in that I finally let my shit go, all the insecurities with him, with everyone, all the hidden resentment, anger and feelings of abandonment, and started really lettin' him in that we started to bloom.
And it's amazing, absolutely amazing, and one hell of a honeymoon, if you ever ask me. I've got a best friend, lover, husband, teammate, and other half all in one, I'm in literal paradise, I'm gettin' spoiled about every turn, and I'm gettin' incredible, toe curling, seein'-stars, screamin'-his-name sex practically on demand.
All certainly better than the awkward, stilted honeymoon after a rushed on-again mission and stolen wedding, hijacked by Kitty all the same, and then crashed by the Shi-Ar.
I'm content as my thoughts turn down that path. Outer space, Charles' kid, the (again, hijacked) party. Mojo bullshit.
Control of my power.
I still can't believe that one. Spent half my life unable to really connect with anyone, and then only half of that realizing what I was missin' out on, all thanks to the man snoozin' next to me.
Fitting, that he gets to reap the rewards in the end. He certainly did his time and threw his heart into it. And Remy, it might take you a minute to see it, but he's always been all heart.
I glance back over him, a dumb, soft smile all over my face that he's missin' for sleeping in. He'd helped me on the control thing. Not so much in actually doing anything, that'd all been me, doing the grunt work. But in terms of support? Remy was my goddamn rock. And a remarkably good source of focus and distraction whenever I'd needed either of them.
Spiral'd started the whole thing in Mojoworld. I'd thought I was broken, when in reality, I was just carryin' around a motherload of insecurities, piled on with helplessness, bitterness, jealousy, and depression, all enabled with bad fixes and misplaced sympathy from others. I'd made lots of headway then, and me and Remy had gone home with him not needin' the bracelet to stay alive, and me not needin' it to touch a little bit.
Not a lot of touch, not a first. I could touch him a few minutes at a time, and then I'd hone in on it 'cause it felt good and I was excited and nervous, and zap him. Little by little, touch by touch, hands held by hands held, kiss by kiss, I got to where I could touch him for hours at a time. And it was incredible, being able to snuggle up with him on the couch, in bed, and just touch him casually.
Of course, none of it was casual for me, and turns out, that was part of my problem.
Frustratin' as hell, is what it was, 'cause I couldn't make love with him, not without the bracelet. We'd get as far as heavy kissing, touching for pleasure, and as soon as things got intense…zzzzzzt!
It'd gotten to a point where I was startin' to regress a little. That's when he'd suggested we go on a trip, a real honeymoon, somewhere remote, luxuriant, disconnected from our life. No bracelet, no pressure, no stressors past bitchin' about getting sand in weird places.
I'd jumped all over it, left the bracelet at home, and it'd been a dang blessing. First night, we'd holed up in this here hammock, just hangin' out, I guess. Turned into a thing of talking, snuggling, touchin', no intent behind anything, and we'd stayed up til the sun burned off the night's mist, then slept half the day away.
Next night, after an afternoon of exploring the island, we'd gone much the same way, and while the touches remained light, the talks went more serious, talkin' futures and so on. Even went into the whole kids thing, when I told him I can't have any 'cause of the terrigen mist.
That'd been a huge thing, tellin' him that. He likes kids, wants kids of his own, and I can't give him any. Of course, he'd figured as much, since it's long known that's a thing with the mist and mutants, but sayin' it out loud…
Anyway, that'd been the gateway topic. Seemed like after that, all the shit I'd bottled up kept comin' out. Not in a big, nasty all-at-once kinda way, just that it kept comin' up as we talked at this time and that one. Real chill about it. I'd wanted to tell him. And you know? It ain't even been that painful, not once I started doing it. And he'd reciprocated, and then next thing we'd known, after nearly a week of deep, complete relaxation, we were clear, and I could touch.
Blows my mind that all these years, all I'd had to do was unclench a little. Quit thinkin' about it, 'cause when I'd thought about it, I'd thought about how I couldn't control it, how it'd controlled me, and then I'd panic. That'd spun the whole thing into a perpetual downward spiral straight to a literal bottom, where I was killin' the man I loved over and over without even touchin' him (didn't matter that it was in Mojo Land, I'd still done it, I'd still felt it, and so had he).
Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy!
Remy starts movin' next to me, and I glance over out of my musings to watch the crisp white bedding fall away and show off the tanned expanse of his torso, shoulders, and arms. I lick my lips and reach out to touch him, running my hand along his spine as the muscles of his back flex in a long stretch. He hums low and thick in his throat with pleasure, and rolls to his side, back to me, arching into my hands.
God, he's gorgeous. Every ounce on that man's six feet and two inches long body is gorgeous. Even the puckered up scars littering his skin from tip to toe. Prime nibbling spots right there if you ask me; he tends to scar up big and ugly, and they're sensitive. I wanna lick every one of them right now, and other places besides, and—
You know what? To hell with lettin' him sleep in, he can take a nap after. I want him right now, and I already gotta thing in mind that has my mouth watering up (other places, too, heh).
"Mornin', for real this time, you sexy-ass Cajun," I lean over and purr along the plane of his shoulder blade, my hand sliding down over his ribs.
Goosebumps ripple up across his skin, and he stirs as I smile around open mouthed kisses down his back til I hit a particularly sensitive scar just above his kidney. It's all tight, still kinda red, and puffed up. He's got a matchin' mark on his front, and a slip of my hand over his obliques tells me that scar is still tender, too.
What's left over from a stab he'd taken in space, that. He's got a decent enough healin' factor, but it's coupled up with a tendency toward overproduction of all that scar tissue. The wound had healed quickly, but the scar's still red, and it still bothers him. I'm gonna have to rub his tante Mattie's salve on later on, massage it in real good and break the tissues down a little, see if I can't loosen that shit up a bit.
But not right now. I got plans for right now.
A soft suck on the puckered up flesh and a light lick, a lower slip of my hand between his legs, and said plan is in action. He's already fillin' up my grip, and after a few good tugs on him, he's gone heavy and ready for me.
I start kissing along his ribs, scrapin' teeth along the crests and lickin' into the dips, working him in my hand the whole while. His breath hitches and catches in his sleep a couple of times, his lips part, and his lashes flutter a bit on his cheeks in response, and it takes everything in me to keep my pace and not jump right in and eat him alive.
"Damn, Remy," I growl softly across his skin, nip over his hipbone, "once I get down on you, I'mma suck you so good, suck you in tight and swallow you down, sugar."
And I meant every word of what I just said, too, 'cause I'm starin' down at him, all swelled up in my hand, already slick at his tip, and hot damn, he's beautiful, delicious, and all mine.
Smacking my lips again, I lean over his hip and breathe kisses down the V into his groin. He twitches in my hand as I continue over his balls with lazy licks and a long, wet kiss planted at the start of his dick. I can smell the heat off his skin, can taste last night all over him, and it's a wild as all hell turn-on, if I'm gonna be honest.
I'd blame his psyche upstairs for rubbin' his grossness off on me, except I had me some fantasies of my handsome Cajun long before I ever got ahold of him.
One of those fantasies is actually this right here, me wakin' him up in my mouth. I'm hopin' he stays asleep til he's close (not banking on that one, but the man did wear himself out yesterday and last night, so??), 'cause I wanna see his expression when he opens his eyes and realizes he's about to blow his nuts out in my face.
"See how long you stay out of it, Cajun," I laugh softly over him, givin' a lick to make him instinctively tilt his hips up for more.
And I let him have it. I lean over his hips a little further, suck him in and suck him tight, pulling in deeper and rubbing him with my tongue. He shifts restlessly, and I pull off to move around, pushing his leg out til he's rolled on his back, and opened up for me to go in again.
It doesn't take him long from there. It never does, boy's gotta thing for oral, and it ain't any time all before his eyes fly open and he's twisting one hand in the sheets, the other in a handful of my hair, and a low, harsh groan is scrapin' up out of his throat.
"H-hohhh, g-goddamn," he gasps out, every muscle from his navel clear to his knees skakin' and twitchin', his heels digging into the bedding, his toes flexing and curling. I hum a little over him, hands all over him, nails scraping the inside of his thighs to make him hiss, writhe, and push my face into him, all one hundred eighty pounds of him strung tight and straining. "Ch-chere—uuuooooooh fuck!"
I slide my arms over his hips and under him, grabbing at his back with one hand, his ass with the other, holding him to me, in my mouth as he finishes. He pants my name, hand heavy on my head, and shudders ripple up his back til he's done.
Feeling the tension melting out of him, I gradually let up til he's left wrung out, eyes closed, drifting off as he catches his breath. I slowly pull off and crawl up til I'm straddling him, hands on either side of his head. His eyes blink open, red irises bright and still a bit dazed, and his mouth is already pulling into the dopiest smile he's worn in a while.
Pretty sure last time I saw one of these smiles was after we got hitched, right after that kiss. God, that'd been a helluva kiss, one he'd stolen before the rabbi had even finished introducing us as Mr. and Mrs. And Remy, ever the romantic that he is, he'd even popped his foot, too!
Anyway, seein' him so dang relaxed, happy, and satisfied is the stuff to spin my world, and I can't help but feel a little smug that I made him that way.
"Hey, you," I flirt down at him, grinning wide. "I see you finally decided to open up them pretty eyes."
He softly snorts away the compliment and reaches for me, flattening me out on his chest. "Feel free to open me up like this anytime y' want, chere. I don't mind it one bit."
I sink my fingers into his hair, thumbs rubbin' those impossibly high cheekbones. "I'll just bet you don't, shug," I laugh softly at him, "and I just might do that. Does you some good to completely lose it every now and again, keeps you humble, hmm?"
His eyes flick open again, this time with a glint in 'em I know all too well, and I won't lie, boy just got my pulse hoppin'. "That so?" He asks silkily, hands clapping loudly over my ass, "sound like maybe someone's in need of bein' put back in her place. An' that place," he pauses to fight off a yawn, trying to mask it by flippin' us over, "is mos' definitely," the yawn tries him again, and I snort loudly at him as he plugs along anyway, "mos' definitely under my—goddammit," he curses as his face contorts in a decided loss to said yawn.
I nearly die laughin' up at him, and yank his drowsy ass down flat on me. "Bitch, be humble," I tease him, smoochin' his cheek before wriggling up in the hammock so I got his pillow under my head, and his head on my chest. "You can put me in my place under your whatever when you actually got the energy to do anything with your anything."
"Mmm-hm, you jus' wait, chere," he murmurs rather menacingly into the side of my breast, despite being about this close to passin' out. He drags a lick clear up over my nipple, gives me a rough lap of his tongue, and I shiver right up into his mouth, my fingers already back in his hair. "I'm about to destroy you in the most absolute and thorough ways, chere." He gives a sharp, fast nip of his teeth, making me suck in my breath and slide my legs around his ribs, 'cause— "and then we'll see who's a humble bitch, yeah?"
"Pffft! Go back to sleep, Cajun," I double down and tease him some more, swatting him off my boobs. "Me, I'm just gonna go back to the insane scenery while Sleepin' Beauty gets his rest—"
He moves swift and cuts me off with a kiss that starts out hard enough to curl my toes, then he gentles it, slow, sweet, and deep, a luxuriant sweep of his tongue against mine, a sensual move of his lips over mine. He breaks away, but doesn't move back, keeps foreheads together and noses bumpin', and I lean in for another kiss, another taste, tryin' to pull him down on me, maybe in me if he's hard again—
"Tha's about t' be how your pussy gets it, Anna-Marie LeBeau," he murmurs low and rich, his gaze never leavin' mine as he slips his arms under me and easily slides me up to him, his eyes a goddamn light show, his expression utterly wicked. "So you do this, chere," he runs his hand up between my breasts, up over my throat, and gently pushes my jaw back til my head's back over the edge of the hammock. "You spread your pretty legs wide open for me," his hand falls back and the hammock creaks as I open up and he settles down between my thighs, "and you push them gorgeous tits up in my hands," said hands drag over my breasts, palms both calloused and smooth rubbin' my nipples til I'm arched up for him and ready to scream at him, "and you look out over all that insane scenery while I go down," he pauses to kiss me so close, I clench up and lift my head to watch him, 'cause god, he's good at this, and I love him, and I wanna watch him— "and eat you out good, beb, suck you off and clean you out. Think maybe you'd like that, chere?"
"Y-yes, yes, I think I would," I manage, noddin' at him enthusiastically like a complete moron, god, I can't even breathe, I want him so dang bad—
"Mm-hm, that's good, chere," he answers with a slow lick that makes me fall back to hang my head off the hammock, hissing and digging my hands in his hair. I ain't even sure if he meant my answer or me, but— oh god, oh my god—"ohhhhhhh damn, Remy, that, that, that right there—"
And just like it didn't take him long, it doesn't me, either. And I'd say that gettin' off with the absolute love of your stupid life in utter paradise, completely secluded in a vast panoramic view of stunning tropics and beach and cerulean waters (even if it is upside down, but whatever) is just about as good as this life or the next one can possibly get, but I'd be wrong.
Nah, the best was before, when we'd finally gone through all the hard shit, and all that was left was the two of us, stripped bare, wide open, and lettin' each other in. All the way in. Realizin' I love him so dang much, and that he loves me still, in spite of the absolute ass I'd been about the whole thing for so long. Realizin' that it really is enough, and all I had to do was trust in it, trust me, trust him, and hold to it tight. And finally havin' figured it out, that so much of me just lettin' the shit out, and lettin' him in, and realizin' that he's offering the same, was what it took to gain control…
Yeah, that was a beautiful moment. One to go down in the books, for sure.
The best part is also after. When aforementioned absolute love of your stupid life comes up, a content, almost boyish, smile softening his features, and he drops a kiss on your face, teases you mercilessly about how humble you look, and then snuggles down into the covers with you. And then y'all both are completely wrapped up in each other, and neither of you are quite ready to let the moment go, the teasing, the laughing, the sexiness, the intimacy. And then you both start driftin' off, droppin' lazy last kisses over warm scented skin, runnin' slow hands lightly over each other. And then your eyes close, and it's okay, 'cause you're both gonna be right there, just like this, when you wake up in a bit, and y'all are gonna go home like this, too.
Because it's all yours.
——•oOo•——
Alright. Well! That's them. This was a fic that had no plan, it kind of just wrote itself from a gorgeous picture of a couple in Bali, a deliciously smutty scene written in chapter 3 of Ludi's '96 Hours', and all in the flow of Rogue's thoughts. Riley, I hope you enjoyed her, she was enjoyable to write:)
(btw, the hammock situation is real, and the location here is a mash up between two areas near Ubud and the island of Nusa Dua Bali—go to my Pinterest, ((Jehilew)), and the board named after this fic to see visuals)
